myself and
found it was true. I had not tasted one in two months. We took the
steamer _Senator_ that evening for San Francisco. It had been a Long
Island steamboat and had arrived since my departure for the mines. It
was the first steamer that had ever sailed the interior waters of
California, and had been put on to run from San Francisco to Sacramento.
I think it belonged to Grenell, Minton & Co., a prominent shipping firm
of New York city. Charley Minton had charge of it. Of course its profits
were great. But I could not sleep in my state-room berth; I had been so
long used to a hard bed I was restless, but we arrived safe the next
morning at San Francisco. The bulk of my book will be events that
occurred during my residence in that city. I scarcely know how to begin
to describe it. My efforts will be to portray them truthfully. To do so
I must continue in the form of a personal narrative. That is the only
way I can recall the events to my mind of so long ago.

At this time more changes took place there in a month than in most any
other place in a year. Every thing was done by the month. Buildings were
rented by the month; money was loaned by the month; ten per cent per
month was the regular interest. There was but one bank, called the
Miners', on the corner of the plaza, owned by three parties. During my
absence a great boom had taken place--influenced by new arrivals and
most favorable news from the gold mining sections. This was the fall of
1849. The lots that I had thought of trading six of my houses for had
tripled in value, but lumber was still bringing fabulous prices and
every thing looked favorable for a big strike on my houses when they
arrived. Montgomery street was on the banks of the bay. There was one
pier at this time constructed from it in the bay, and a temporary pier
by Colonel Stevenson at the north beach. The city was growing up toward
Happy Valley. Portsmouth Square, the plaza, still had some of the adobe
buildings on it. The best hotel was the Parker House, on the west corner
of it. The plaza was sand, no vegetation on it.

Rincon Point, on Telegraph Hill, was the spot where ships and steamers
were signalled. Steamers coming in but once a month, they brought the
last news from the East. The New York papers were peddled at $1 each.
Long lines of people were formed to get the mail, and you had to take
sometimes half a day before you could reach the office. Oakland,
opposite the bay, had no existen